


Janurary 20th

by a_sober_folly



Category: Paris Burning (thecitysmith)
Genre: Gen, all cities are activists, no city supports what is happening, political-ish fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sober_folly/pseuds/a_sober_folly
Summary: United States Cities, on inauguration day.





	

Washington DC is noticeably absent from the inauguration. He marches, helps block the streets to help his children. A Capitol City puffed up bit by those coming, he speaks into a loudspeaker, quotes the Bill of Rights and Amendments, over and over again. He is so tired. It doesn’t matter. 

 

New York is with his children. He’s in Columbus Circle, Union Square, in every home. He speaks out, screams with the rage of his citizens, walks in the streets, hands shoved in his pockets, hoodie up. New York is home to over eight million people, and he will fight for them, keep them safe. He’s a Sanctuary city, and he’ll be damned if a hair on the heads of his children are touched without their permission. He speaks in the eight hundred languages of his people, stumbling over the ones that are dying:  _ Fight with us. Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you. _

 

Los Angelos screams, slams her fists against the walls. She lends her voice to broadcasts, gathers her children close to her. She barricades herself with the chains, holds hands. She speaks comfort and wrath, weeps and holds. She stands tall and proud in the rain, carries umbrellas. She speaks too:  _ Fight with us. Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you. _

 

Chicago stands firm, a Windy City no more. Chicago fights in the streets, hidden. Chicago is a loud City, the largest and most well-known in her area. She keeps herself small, lets her children speak over her, lends her voice. She walks with the students in Daley Square, with and Occupy movement, with a tower protest. She is a City, and these are her people-- their voices must be louder than hers. Still, she insists:  _ Fight with us. Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you. _

 

Boston’s tattoos on her neck burn. She tossed tea into her harbor once, and now she fights against a man who she would rather face a flood then meet. She has been at Navy Memorial, screamed out rage at Malcolm X Park, walked with DisruptJ20.  _ Fight with us,  _ she screams.  _  Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you. _

 

Anchorage’s protests are not as loud, not as public. Anchorage doesn’t care. She says, in the ninety-four languages that her children speak, in fluid and confident syllables as she pushes her hair behind her ears,  _ Fight with us.  _ She borrows a skywriting plane and writes in the sky, with all the writing systems of all her children, so all can see and read:  _ Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you. _

 

Philadelphia wears a hockey uniform, painted over in black to mourn. Philadelphia writes her pronouns on the back, writes a list of all the protests and walkouts and rallies that can be attended, of all the safe spaces and groups.  _ Fight with us,  _ he writes on the Rittenhouse wall.  _ Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you. _

 

Portland -- Portland, Oregon-- keeps herself hidden. She’s cut the blue from her hair, covers her head with a beanie. Still-- surely it cannot hurt to go, not when her children are screaming, yelling, begging, angry--   
A faceless part of the crowd, they are everyone.  _ Fight with us,  _ Portland writes in neon chalk on sidewalks, on the sides and backs of stores.  _ Stand up. Resist. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you.  _ Portland clambers into a tunnel, hiding from the police, climbs back up and gives coats to everyone she can see. They’ve lost too many already.

 

San Francisco rises with the fury and fear of her people; she feels fire in her skin and earthquakes in her veins.  _ Stand up _ , she beseeches.  _ Resist _ , she screams. _ Keep yourselves safe _ , she begs.  _ I stand with you _ , she shouts.  
When she is told about the delays and disruptions she feels in her bones, she only bears her teeth in a razor grin and  _ smiles. _

 

Baltimore sings her fear, her voice rising louder and louder. Detroit storms through her squares and streets, a whirlwind of activity. Honolulu gathers her children around her and speaks through tears. Birmingham walks through his streets again, carrying the signs he made for Reverend Martin. Las Vegas dances words into the sands, turns her casinos dark, pulls off her wedding rings; she’ll have no joy of this, nor bestow her luck for this. Virginia Beach turns off her brightest, most dazzling displays; she’s in no mood to receive her tourist children as she mourns. Seattle interviews his children at the protests, whispers words of encouragement and hope and anger.

 

_Stand up. Resists. Keep yourselves safe. I stand with you._

 

Fargo has not left Standing Rock in a year. Fargo blinks and continues passing out supplies. They have a long fight ahead of them.


End file.
